


All the Things She Said

by runicmagitek



Series: Aerti Week 2020 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: As for the skip in her pulse, Tifa dismissed it as frayed nerves, barely withstanding yet another fiasco in their journey.She didn’t realize it was because ofher, until she disappeared—until Tifa found the millions of words didn’t know she longed to say.After the Temple of the Ancients, Aerith vanishes from the group. They're determined to find her and Tifa hopes she finds the right words to express how she feels when they do.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Series: Aerti Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932154
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	All the Things She Said

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 - monochrome | a reunion | _tacenda:_ things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

She ignored it, much like everything else. How Cloud was never there, yet perfectly recalled that horrific day. The countless lives lost to the plate’s collapse. The copy of her hometown—her _things_ —as if fire never consumed it. As for the skip in her pulse, Tifa dismissed it as frayed nerves, barely withstanding yet another fiasco in their journey.

She didn’t realize it was because of _her_ , until she disappeared—until Tifa found the millions of words didn’t know she longed to say.

Her heart raced every waking second. She paced when she believed to be alone, drummed fingers along her arm, and scouted her surroundings to catch a glimpse of pink. But Aerith’s absence persisted and the hole in their party expanded. Tifa feared that abyss would swallow her, but she convinced herself Aerith would return.

She _had_ to. She _promised_.

“I’ll come back when this is all over,” she had said in everyone’s dreams that fateful night. Tifa hoped to find her again there, but dreams ceased to visit her.

They abandoned the Temple of the Ancients and headed north, where rumor of a magical forest bordered another settlement of the Ancients. Maybe it was the same forest from their dreams. Maybe it wasn’t. Little else pointed them in the proper direction.

Where else could she be?

The others worried for the future while Tifa stewed in the past and what she could’ve said instead. Even if she had recognized the way her heart skipped only for Aerith, when was it the right time to do _anything_? They could have taken advantage of their time in Costa del Sol, maybe buy her the crimson bikini she kept ogling in a boutique window. Or maybe that time was better spent at the Gold Saucer with enough distractions to last multiple lifetimes. Or if Tifa mustered the courage, she might have led Aerith into her recreated home in Nibelheim and shown her the life she used to have.

Tifa groaned and hung her head. The past was always clearer in hindsight. She hated that about memories. If only she could alter just one and do _something_.

_What would I say?_ Tifa wondered as they meandered the Sleeping Forest. _What can capture how I feel—every last drop._

She replayed the memories and crafted them to better suit her desires. The right words surfaced without a stutter. No interruptions, no doubts—nothing. Each time, Aerith smiled and reciprocated, gushing how she, too, felt the same way. They’d embrace and laugh and kiss until the fantasies blurred and Tifa remembered where she was.

The forest receded. Massive structures resembling shells and coral peeked through the mountains. The bleach white of the city blinded her. Again she scanned the premise. Not a smudge of color blipped into view.

Her heart sank, yet Tifa held her head high. They had to find her— _needed_ to—if only so Tifa could tell her all the things she longed to say, even on borrowed time.

For the first time since they departed, Tifa’s thoughts shifted. _What_ will _I say?_

_Aerith, I_ _’ve been thinking a lot lately…._

_Aerith, you remember that time back in Wutai_ _…._

_Aerith, let_ _’s go back to the Gold Saucer and…._

_Aerith, I wanted to knock on your door that night_ _…._

_Aerith, I should_ _’ve done something sooner, but…._

_Aerith._

_The thing is_ _…._

Every turn in the white city led to another dead end. Then they took a wrong turn, descended into a crystallized cavern, and approached the floating altar amidst a still lake.

They didn’t find her there, save for a pink scarf.

Tifa scooped it up while the others discussed a new plan. Aerith always wore it in her hair. Nothing complicated, yet embodied the same natural elegance as her. It bounced along with her twisting braid, like wings.

Curling her fingers into the fabric, Tifa brought it to her chest and closed her eyes. It smelled of fresh-cut flowers and mornings after summer rain—of Aerith. Tears slipped off her jaw and soaked the scarf. With a trembling breath, Tifa tied the scarf at her hip beside her belt buckles and pouches. A touch of warmth against her monochromatic attire.

A reason to wake up from dreamless night after night and keep searching.

She had to tell her.

* * *

The scarf fluttered with her rapid movements amidst battle. The bitter cold nipped her exposed skin, but never hindered Tifa. Swift kicks cut the air and knocked her foes unconscious. She stretched and caught her breath after each victory, patted her side to smooth over the pink scarf, then marched on without looking back.

Past the snowy fields, the hot springs, and the steep climb up the Northern Crater, they looked for her. Against the pure white landscape, Tifa hoped the catch a whirl of pink from the corner of her eyes. Maybe even her laughter would dance on the breeze and beckon them to her. A wistful smile formed on Tifa’s lips as she returned to her daydreams; maybe then, she could give Aerith a reason to laugh, to smile, to live.

Just as she had with Tifa.

She hoisted herself to the top of the crater when the light blinded her. Stars hung in the dark sky, yet the brilliant turquoise energy bounced off the snow and ice, rendering the shadows useless. Tifa winced and squinted. Past the ribbons of light swirling in the center of the crater, she swore she found a figure dancing within it.

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. The mere thought of sharing the same space with Aerith again fueled her to run, to fight, to reach their destination without hesitating.

The frigid air skittered in her throat. Her hands fell numb, either from the temperature or from striking one too many monsters. Anything to come closer, just to know the truth.

_Please. Please let it be you._

The energy subsided once they arrived. It faded like drifting snowflakes and lit the path to the center. There they found the cracked shell that once contained Sephiroth and severed limbs of the alien he called his mother.

Floating high above, surrounded by holy magic, was Aerith.

Loose hair billowed in the wind. She slowly spun in place, head tilted back and lips ajar. In her palms sat a ball of pure light. It diminished as the magic fizzled out, shrinking to the size of materia. The shadows reclaimed the crater, though a faint glow emitted from the orb. Turquoise light accented Aerith’s face in her descent.

Tifa was there to catch her before she collapsed.

“Aerith?” she managed to say, hating how the words quivered. “Aerith, wake up. Please.” Tifa stifled a sob as she fell to her knees and clung to Aerith’s frail form. “Come back.”

She mistook it for the wind—the subtle caress along her cheek. But the warmth didn’t belong to the Northern Crater and she snapped her eyes open to meet Aerith’s exhausted gaze.

“Hey,” Aerith breathed out. “Just in time.”

Tifa blinked away tears. “Aerith, what—”

“It’s over, now. We never need to worry again.” She cupped Tifa’s face, though her strength waned. “And I said I’d be back… when it was all over.”

She barely finished the sentence. Her hand dropped, her eyes shut, and her head lolled.

* * *

Tifa refused to leave the room at Icicle Inn. She dragged a chair to the bed and sat beside Aerith as she slept. Still breathing. Simply in need of rest, warmth, and a good meal.

“It’s a miracle she lived,” Cloud mentioned one night. “Taking on Sephiroth like that… I don’t even know if _we_ would’ve made it.”

Tifa glanced at the pure white materia with turquoise streaks on the nightstand. “None of us are Ancients, though. Or had White Materia handy.”

“I guess.” He paused. “I’m glad we found her when we did.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, Tifa?”

She tilted her head. Cloud barely held eye contact while he rubbed his neck.

“Take care of her, alright?” was all he said before leaving.

A slight smile surfaced before Tifa slumped against the edge of the bed.

She traced the wrinkles in the quilted blankets, then smoothed them out. She tucked stubborn hair behind Aerith’s ear. She watched the deep rise and fall of her chest—proof she was alive. But the bowl of soup for her went cold as a blizzard passed through the town. Tifa sighed and smooshed her cheek against Aerith’s lap.

“Please be alright,” Tifa murmured. “I have so much to tell you.”

* * *

Sunlight tickled her face, but Tifa didn’t stir. Soft fingers traced her face. Through her sleepy haze, Tifa recognized the touch and flinched awake.

A heavy, wool blanket slid off her shoulders as gentle laughter filled the room. Propped up by multiple pillows, Aerith reclined in bed, played with Tifa’s hair, and smiled.

“Hey, you,” Aerith purred. “Quite a lovely sight to wake up to.”

Part of Tifa wanted to sit up and tame whatever bed head she acquired during the night. The rest of her didn’t want to move another inch from her current spot—nestled in Aerith’s lap with those green eyes glued to her.

Damn it, she forgot how magnificent her gaze was.

“Have I been out long?” Tifa asked.

“Probably not as long as I have,” Aerith teased, “but you looked like you needed the rest.”

Tifa chuckled, the sound barely alive on her lips. “It’s been… quite a trek to find you.”

Aerith tilted her head and pouted. “I said I’d be back.”

“Would you, though?”

“Of course. I don’t say things just to hear myself talk.”

_I_ _’d gladly listen, if that were the case,_ Tifa mused.

Her heart skipped. From the idle patterns Aerith drew along her jaw, from the slight chill in the room, from the thoughts she continued to stifle and not voice.

Prying herself away, Tifa sat up. “Aerith, I….” She readjusted the blanket around her shoulders, fussed with her hair, and looked anywhere but _her_. “I’ve been thinking since you left. There’s so much that I… I….” Swallowing hard, she loosened the scarf from her side and extended it to Aerith. “I found this in the City of the Ancients. I thought I’d never see you again, that all our time together… that I wasted it. The thing is—”

Her lips froze, her throat dried, and her pulse thrummed in her ears. Deep breaths didn’t rid her of the awful, quivering sensation living in her body. She wanted to scream, wanted to pounce Aerith and smother her with kisses, wanted to apologize for messing up every moment she never knew she had with her. Amidst her internal chaos, she thought of Aerith and what she said a second ago.

The tension in her shoulders melted. Tifa lost an inch in height as she released a breath she clung to for far too long. “Here.” She opened her palm to offer the scarf. “This is yours. I couldn’t bring myself to part with it… unless I was returning it to you.”

The pink fabric was no longer pristine, the hue now dull and frayed at the edges. It rubbed threadbare where Tifa tied it in a firm knot. Not the same as before, but still there.

Aerith ghosted her fingertips along the scarf. Then she closed Tifa’s hand over it and kissed her knuckles. “You keep it,” she murmured. “I think it looks better on you.”

A tiny gasp escaped Tifa. Blush warmed her face, even brighter than the scarf’s original color. Aerith smirked and tested the spaces between Tifa’s fingers.

Tifa smiled, nodded, and rested her other hand over Aerith’s. Whatever words she had to say—then, now, or whenever—were no longer needed. The silence said plenty and finally, Tifa sat comfortably in it alongside Aerith.


End file.
